Category: Poetry (Page 9 of 45)

lapis lazuli

13 July 2025 / Editor

Poetry by Chris Talbott

Today I saw the bluebird—
no, really—lapis lazuli:
Krishna’s blue, medicine Buddha,
Mary’s robes, the sky kasiṇa—
the one we call happiness—
It flew from the ground
in front of me,
straight out and away
into the noon-time woods,
into the aspiring trunks,
the newly fleshed leaves
lit from above

Originally published in The Bluebird Word in March 2022.

Chris Talbott has been writing poetry on & off for many years. After a career as a business writer, he worked at the non-profit Barre Center for Buddhist Studies for a decade. He continues his study & practice, along with writing poetry.

Succulent

10 July 2025 / Editor

by Heather Bartos

Jade plants will never win beauty contests.
Snub-nosed, squat, solid-thighed,
Pudgy limbs and squinty little blossoms.
But deep roots and thick flesh
Gather what guarantees survival,
What grants longevity.
Absorb every drop of hope,
Each ray of encouragement,
All words of praise.
Slice a leaf, snap a branch
And it will heal itself whole again,
Scar and stump the only sign.
Its own replenishment, resource, retreat,
A deep, wide wealth of well,
A barn full of grain for swallows in the snow.
Current life from yesterday’s rain,
From last summer’s sun,
Dense from receiving and holding of the giving.
How amazing to hold within and inside
Memories of kindness
To shade and shield from the heat
To insulate and inoculate against the cold
Until without and outside
Become a friend once more.

Originally published in The Bluebird Word in February 2022.

Heather Bartos writes both fiction and nonfiction. Her essays have appeared in Fatal Flaw, McNeese Review, HerStry, LitroUSA, and elsewhere. Her flash fiction and short stories have appeared in Baltimore Review, Ponder Review, Rappahannock Review, Relief: A Journal of Art and Faith, and other publications.

food healthy wood nature — Photo by Yulia Ilina on Pexels.com

summer season

1 July 2025 / Editor

Poetry by Erin Lorandos

you
pulled the folded
pocket knife from even
older denim
as you looked towards
the horizon of this life –
saying nothing

and now you open
the knife with one hand
deftly pushing the blade
out and away –
one thumb resting
against that sharp edge

for just a moment
my eyes are pulled to
your left hand –
that’s palming the red,
delicious apple

so fresh
the tree limb
still sways in protest

[Originally published in The Bluebird Word in March 2022.]

Originally from Wisconsin, Erin Lorandos is a librarian and writer living in Phoenix. Some of her recent poetry can be found in Drifting Sands, The Avocet, the 2021 Poetry Marathon Anthology, and in The Purposeful Mayonnaise.

The Hydrangea

22 June 2025 / Editor

Poetry by Celine Bach

The hydrangea hangs heavy,
a secret soft as shadow,
its petals pulse in quiet hues—
blue to violet, like a bruise
that lingers, unnoticed.

Roots reach beneath,
hidden hands clutching
at the hush of earth.
Grief grows in its gentle folds,
strong in its silence.

No sun can coax its bloom—
only time, only the weight
of waiting, weaving slowly.
Then, the garden whispers,
color spilling, soft and strange.

Celine Bach is a writer and poet based in New York City. She has won numerous awards in regional contests and is currently working on a new poetry collection.

Neah Bay

19 June 2025 / Editor

Poetry by Ursula McCabe

Gull noise was always abundant
for the Makah People
even when they labored over
red cedar baskets
in their plank houses.

They lived by beaches
lined with purple-blue mussel shells.
Summer sunsets turned the sea
melon colors and behind their camp
ridges of conifer crowns
glowed hunter green
from the yellowish cast.

Since ancient times
Makah peoples have had the ability
to navigate places where
they cannot see land.

And even now when they return
to the rocks closer to shore,
there are the gulls—
calling them home.

Ursula McCabe sold wine in Portland, Oregon for many years. Her work can be seen in Piker Press, Oregon Poetry Association’s Verseweavers, Lit Shark Magazine, The Bluebird Word, and The Ekphrastic Review. She likes the ocean, forests, lots of birds, and shopping at thrift stores.

No Small Thing

16 June 2025 / Editor

Poetry by Lana Hechtman Ayers

from the size and shape
I can surmise

that it’s a lady bug plodding
across my window screen

black polka dots &
flame orange autumn wings

though only this bug’s
dark underbelly faces me

I know for certain
beauty is out there

ready to be seen

ready to fly off

Lana Hechtman Ayers has shepherded over a hundred forty poetry volumes into print in her role as managing editor for three small presses. Her work appears in Rattle, The London Reader, Peregrine, and elsewhere. Her newest collection is The Autobiography of Rain (Fernwood Press, 2024). Visit her online at LanaAyers.com.

Found a poem

13 June 2025 / Editor

Poetry by Burt Rashbaum

I walk alone in pre-dawn lantern light
sometimes two golden
eyes stare back
other times a hundred
tiny golden orbs all
different heights on the move
a heard of elk
most times a sky of stars a sliver of moon
as the morning light still sleeps
as the bloodshot horizon teases
dawn from the night
a small circle of silver visibility leads the way
beyond its edges the darkness mute unknowable
like a dream.

Burt Rashbaum’s publications are Of the Carousel and Blue Pedals. His poems have appeared in Storms of the Inland Sea (Shanti Arts Press, 2022), Boats Against the Current, The Ravens Perch, Valiant Scribe, The Bluebird Word, The Seraphic Review, and The Nature of Our Times.

Photo by José Luis Rodríguez Martínez on Unsplash

Chocolate Skies

10 June 2025 / Editor

Poetry by Peter A. Witt

In the twilight, the sky drips chocolate,
a velvety hue, soft as a lover’s caress,
filling the horizon like melted dreams.

Clouds loom, thick and rich,
floating like frosted truffles,
each a promise wrapped in dusk.

I savor dark pieces, bitter and sweet as memories,
each morsel a kaleidoscope of comfort.

Stars prick the canopy, tiny sugar sprinkles
against the night, while the moon blushes,
a creamy ganache, pouring tranquility
over weary eyes, chocolate in the clouds
and on my tongue, molding time into moments,
indulgent and fleeting.

Peter A. Witt is a Texas poet, twice nominated for Best of the Net. Peter also writes family history, is an avid birder and photographer. His poetry has been published on various poetry sites and appears in several anthologies.

Kingfisher

7 June 2025 / Editor

Poetry by John Grey

A dazzle of blue
skirts the green-water pond,
merges with a fish
in its squat beak.

He is a king.
No other bird sits so squat,
so regally, on a tree branch.

And a fisher of course.
His catch is inhaled
neatly down his gullet.

He flies off
and other birds arrive
in his wake.

They land
in a wave of salutations,
in a homage
to his feathery crown.

John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident, recently published in New World Writing, River And South and Tenth Muse. Latest books Subject Matters, Between Two Fires, and Covert are available through Amazon. Work upcoming in Paterson Literary Review, White Wall Review and Cantos.

First Light

4 June 2025 / Editor

Poetry by Sam Barbee

Snow surrounds the wide pond.
Squirrels bound edges.
Silence begotten by still water.
Catalyst for green leaves,
and April hymn.

Crystal glaze bursts open in sun–
ice will submit, sepia dispelled
with winter’s consent.
Trees resemble
black keys against white horizon,
flats and sharps to swoon the rabbit
down the slope.
Chill abides
with brown bear and cub.
Downey woodpeckers tap notations.
Nature’s fresh overture
spills treble,
underlies with bass notes–
morning song
and dirge alike.
A red fox waltzes
extinction. Toppled trunks and stumps
ossify, and
shadows absorb imprecise
light. A lively etude evolves
with the immaculate meadow.

Evergreens sway, fallen cones
freckling drifts. Each impact
an apostrophe
to this frozen canticle.
Dwindling imprints reminding
we dance alone.

Sam Barbee’s newest collection is Apertures of Voluptuous Force (2022, Redhawk Publishing). He has three previous poetry collections, including That Rain We Needed (2016, Press 53), a nominee for the Roanoke-Chowan Award as one of North Carolina’s best poetry collections of 2016; he is a two-time Pushcart nominee.